


Things Need to Be Slow

by orphan_account



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 01:17:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20751947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Spinel is undergoing a slow but steady recovery, Steven holds her together.





	Things Need to Be Slow

**Author's Note:**

> The age of consent in my country is 16, this is the only reason I am writing this fic. This was written at two in the morning and is pretty bad, but it stands as an experiment with style of story telling; I plan to actually write a fic regarding Spinel in the future.

“Are you sure this is something you want to do?” Steven’s voice is the only thing which penetrates the deathly still silence of the beach house, it’s an exhausted song but to Spinel it’s her lifeline. It takes her a moment to respond, each word a resounding thud “I… need to go back, I need to see it one last time.” Her voice is like gravel when she does. 

The beach house is dark, the only inkling of light in this place comes from the windows which bathe the rotting wood in streaks of dark blue and white.

“Okay, but remember, we can back out if it gets too much,” He speaks carefully, each word a stone’s skip away from breaking her, he knows this. 

Spinel’s quiet and her grip upon his hand tightens. She only nods. 

They move slowly at first, everything with Spinel is slow, everything needs be slow, or it leads to an explosion. She’s a timebomb without the countdown, which must mean that Steven’s the diffuser  
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She’s been getting better, there’s that at least. Spinel doesn’t talk much about her time on Homeworld, but whenever she does, she speaks with love in her voice. Based on the fragmented speckles of information Steven was given as to her hijinks in the castle, he can come to the conclusion that Spinel has befriended Pink Pearl and the diamonds are doing their best but (besides Blue to some extent) they struggle to understand the different kind of pain Spinel had undergone; they inadvertently treat her like a play thing (the latter he pried out of her on one of her bad days).

It’s a struggle, but when hasn’t it been? 

Sometimes he’d ask her if she’d like to stay on the Earth, try it out for a few days and if it became too much for her, she could leave. By June, she decided to give it a shot. 

It had been a good day, all things considered and when Steven saw the familiar radiant white drop-pod slowly encroaching its way to his beach house, he grinned. 

“Spinel!” He shouted as the blast doors opened and out stepped the familiar pink gem. She wore a hand-knit sweater that Steven had given her the last time she came. Which was a little concerning since he gave her that sweater last Christmas. 

“Hey Steven!” She grinned (a success in Steven’s eyes!) and stretched herself into a hug with the human “How’ve you been?” he asks, “Aw shucks I’ve been swell, things are goin’ great over there,” Steven helped her with her luggage (which isn’t that much, its honestly just things the others gave her for that same Christmas: a Snow globe and those stretchy-sticky-hand-things that should’ve died with the early 2000s, funny, she’d been given four of them from four different people).  
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They move slowly, everything needs to be slow with Spinel, one foot in front of the other. Her noodle arm shakes and lazy tears well in her eyes. The warp-pad edges closer with each step and ragged breaths become a slow crescendo, the only thing which breaks through the stiffening silence of this place.  
“You can tell me, it’s okay.” Steven says, but Spinel shakes her head, her mouth agape and her eyes wide; she needs this.  
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“Hey, you know you don’t have to wear the sweater every day, right?” Steven said as they finally arrived at his house. Its twilight now, and the sky’s color has faded into deep swirls of a dark blue, just dark enough that the change is noticeable, but one is still able to see. “Why?” She asks, sitting on Steven’s bed. 

“Uh, you see people usually don’t wear clothes for more than a day at a time;” He says, “But aren’t I already wearin’ clothes underneath this thing?” She pulled at the sleeves of her sweater, buried her face into the turtleneck. “Yeah, but that’s different- you’re made-“Steven sighs “I’ll wash it for you,” An extended hand; the gem’s face contorted into worry, “You’ll give it back…right?” 

Steven smiled that night, and Spinel loved him more than she knew she could. 

“Of course.”  
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It takes another five minutes before they reach the warp-pad, their boots clinking on its celestial glass and her entire being is shaking now. “I have ta do-it” her voice cracks, shatters. She feels the grip on her arm loosen and for a second she is lost in a sea of pain, drowning underneath ts blackened waves- and then- 

She feels a weight press against her form.  
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There was no natural light on Homeworld, the mega city was lit by its towers and technology, attractions all which had a set goal. 

That’s what she loved most about the earth (besides one other thing that she refused to answer when questioned about), the light, the sun. 

So they sat on one the few skyscrapers of Little Homeworld; it had been a long day spent in a group; this was good, at the very least in the eyes of Steven, she was starting to open. Her jokes were outdated and dry, but they never failed to earn a smile or a chuckle, and that had been enough for her. 

The sun began to set, bathing the world in hues of oranges and blues, a swirling paint of two different worlds fusing into one.

“Friends…” She repeated. “Mhm, friends. “He said again. “So that’s what we are...?” He laughed then, and Spinel felt a strange pit in her stomach, “Yes Spinel, we’re friends.”  
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He’s hugging her now, though the action itself isn’t anything groundbreaking- he hugs her a lot now- but this hug is different somehow; if the previous hugs were an orchestra of differing emotions, then this one was a guitar solo. Spinel stands there for a few seconds, mouth agape. 

This feeling, love, that’s what Steven called it. 

Everything must be slow with Spinel, and this sounds like a cliché, but nothing is slow about this; its fast, too fast moving back and forth over and over twisting and turning 

This is a hug.

Spinel doesn’t realize she’s twisted herself around the human’s form until he’s writhing, “S-sorry!” Round and around and now her eye’s connected with his. Steven takes a moment to catch his breath, “You’re fine, you’re fine.” They stand there for what feels like an eternity as Steven’s breaths subside. 

“Are you okay?” She asks, “Yeah, don’t worry about me.” He answers. 

Everything needs to be slow with Spinel, but this was different. His eyes were weary but there’s something in them, something she needs to see for herself. 

And so, she does it, a simple earth gesture picked up from hours watching Camping Pine Hearts with Peridot and Lapis. 

Spinel needs to see what lies in those eyes, so she kisses him. 

It messy and awkward but then she sees it, deep inside his widened eyes: stars. 

Beautiful things that shimmer against the wetness of his eyes. 

At first, he’s confused, stunned, and in seconds he’s wrapping his arms around her. She’s not sure if this is the best choice, but those stars enamor her, and she’ll do anything to see them again

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Criticisms? Wanna know what my favorite type of cheeseburger is? Please write a comment, they help in more ways that you could know :>


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